


Downward Dog

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dean Does Yoga, M/M, Mutual Pining, Yoga, Yoga Instructor Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch





	Downward Dog

Yoga.

Sam had signed Dean up for yoga. 

 _It’ll be great_ , he said.  _It’s easy, healthy exercise_ , he said.  _The class will be filled with girls,_  he said. _You can get in shape after the holidays and maybe meet the one,_  he said. 

Dean slammed the Impala’s door behind himself before cringing at the loud noise. He patted the cool metal with one hand in apology.

“Sorry, Baby. Not mad at you, just the shit-show this whole thing’s gonna be.”

Sam had “gifted” Dean with the month of yoga classes for Christmas. Well, it’d been a present from Jess, too, really. Although she’d snickered a little at Dean’s disgruntled face when the minty-green paper had drifted out of the envelope in his hands. 

Dean wasn’t so sure it hadn’t been a prank more than a gift. He’d show both those earth-loving, granola-munching hippies, though. He’d ace this whole yoga thing like a pro. After all, how hard could it be? It was only a beginner’s class.

The sidewalks were a mess of dirty snow and slush as Dean trudged across the street to the yoga class’ assigned studio. In a hunter-green canvas bag across his back, he carried Jess and Sam’s other gifts; a yoga mat the color of Baby’s paint-job, and a few pairs of ‘athletic clothing’. The bag bounced against his back as he bounded up the few stairs in front of the place.

It wasn’t exactly quiet. There was a soundtrack of some instrumental wind-chime shit playing somewhere. Feminine voices chatted in a room he had yet to enter. There was a fountain babbling away on a small table by the entry-way, reminding Dean of his need to pee before this whole ordeal got started.

A pair of doors off to the side were marked as restrooms. Dean slipped into one, using the toilet quickly before unzipping his bag and rifling through it.

Whatever he’d been expecting for ‘athletic clothing’, this hadn’t been it. There were no shorts or mesh stuff, just a few pairs of sweats and some funky-feeling t-shirts. And, of course, no shoes. ‘Cause, right, that was a thing.

 _Thank God_ , Dean thought. If he’d had to wear Lycra or something of the sort, he’d have been out of there like the place was on fire. 

He dressed quickly before heading out to discover just where the hell he was supposed to be, taking care to avoid the wet shoe-prints his boots had left. 

There was a small hallway to the left of the bathrooms. A few doors spotted the walls, each with waterproof mats beside them. One particular mat was already brimming with shoes. 

Dean supposed that that was his best bet.

He dropped his boots on the edge of the woven material before hesitating at the door. His hand trembled over the knob. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he was nervous, or anything. It was a beginner’s class. It’d be easy. No need to be all shaky.

The door opened with a gentle push. The wind-chime soundtrack was louder, though remained soft enough that Dean was able to mostly ignore it. 

Groups of women were strewn all about. Some leaned against the walls and chatted while others were already sat on their mats, murmuring animatedly. Holy hell, it was like Legging City, though. After a few glances around the room, Dean decided that he could get used to yoga classes.

There were a few men interspersed throughout the women. One of them wore leggings as well, though Dean decided that the clothing item was definitely better suited for women when he caught an eyeful of the frontal view. 

No sooner than Dean had meandered his way to the other side of the room did the door open again. A pair of hands clapped behind him, ceasing all the chatter. Dean turned.

 _Holy. Fuck_.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Castiel. I’m the instructor and owner of Holy Poses Yoga studio. I’d like to welcome all of you to this, the afternoon beginner’s class.”

 _Oh, fuck_. The guy was hot. Not just any kind of hot, either. No, the instructor, Castiel, was Dean’s kryptonite-kind-of-hot. 

His hair was dark and messy, tangled into what looked suspiciously like post-sex-hair. Blue, blue eyes blinked slowly in a face that should have been made illegal for it’s criminal beauty. His jaw was shadowed with a hint of scruff, his lips too damn sinful to be called anything else. And, shit, where the fuck were the rest of his clothes? 

In a pair of cut-off sweatpants and a baggy, ragged tank-top, Castiel exposed his a good deal of skin. He was tanned and toned and all sorts of Dean’s fantasies come to life.

What the hell had Sam gotten Dean into?

“Please prepare your areas by laying out your mats.” 

Sex. That was what the guy’s voice was. It was like sex distilled down to its purest form. 

Dean gritted his teeth and yanked his yoga mat from his bag, nearly knocking his elbow into a blonde woman by his side. He muttered a quick apology before kicking his bag against the wall.

He could do this. All he had to do was follow the class for six sessions. And not pop a boner during any one of them. Yeah. Dean could do that. 

“Please seat yourself in a cross-legged position on your mats.”

Dean hastily folded his legs as best as he could, wincing at the loud pop one of his knees released.

In that position, Castiel had them roll their shoulders and necks. He explained the ways to sit properly, in a way that made Dean’s spine creak a little when he attempted it. Then, there were all sorts of arms stretches and what were called ‘side-stretches’. 

Then they were all on their hands and knees and doing weird movements that Dean admitted felt kinda nice. And then came Down-Ward Dog. Dean found muscles in his legs he didn’t know he had. Still Dog was worse and he found himself wincing as his palms slipped, dampened with sweat. 

There was Volcano Pose, some almost split-sorta-thing, Warrior One, Warrior Two, and a slew of others Dean couldn’t remember for the protesting of his muscles. 

It seemed like forever before the poses started repeating backwards and Dean found himself folded atop his mat again. His shirt stuck to his skin and he could feel sweat making his hair wet. 

A quick glance around assured him that he wasn’t the only one who had had a rough time. A few others looked winded, their faces flushed and damp. Castiel bid them all good-bye until their next session.

***                                                        ***                                                   ***

Yoga was definitely not at easy as everyone made it out to be, Dean decided.

Especially when your instructor was hot as fuck-all and seemed intent on destroying your concentration and wreaking hell on your self-control.

Castiel, as it turned out, was a hands-on teacher. Often, he’d wander around the class and correct posture; hands gently easing spine straight or pushing hips or shoulders into place. At least three times every class, Dean found himself breathing a little harder when Castiel’s long fingers became ten hot points of pressure through his clothing. The man’s voice purred by his ear, far too close a taste as to what it would be like in bed. 

As it was, Castiel had begun starring in most of Dean’s late-night alone-time. What would his voice sound like calling out Dean’s name? Would he be submissive, dominant, or switch between the two? Would he like it rough or sweet and slow? What would his lips taste like?

It didn’t help at all that Castiel continuously added to the fodder of Dean;s fantasies, either. Twice during sessions Castiel had shown up in his cut-off sweatpants and nothing else. He had a tattoo just beneath the ribs of his side, foreign lettering that Dean had wanted to lick. His hip-bones were works of art, his chest too damn distracting. 

Dean had lost the battle to not get aroused during the sessions long ago. His only remaining pride rested in not popping a boner. It was quite the feat, considering the fact that Castiel seemed hell-bent on teasing Dean until he was mindless. Then again, maybe the guy didn’t notice he was doing it. 

That was probably it, actually. There was no way Castiel was into Dean, one of his yoga students, like that. Hell, Dean pretty much sucked at yoga. 

If the classes hadn’t been a gift, if Jess and Sam didn’t ask after them repeatedly, if Castiel wasn’t the teacher…Dean would’ve quit long ago. He felt the strain in his muscles for days after each class. But Castiel’s impact lasted longer than that.

Dean tried to focus on the position he was in; limbs pointed this way and that as his back protested and his legs burned. 

“Let’s shift into a side-ways, uneven tip-toe pose, now. Take your time, remember to breathe.”

Dean wanted to groan as Castiel rose out of his own pose and began his third trip around the room. 

A bead of sweat trickled down his spine as his thigh muscles cried out for relief. 

Castiel stopped briefly by a woman with red hair, using one hand to lift her chin from its position on her chest.

“Head up, neck long. It makes it easier to breathe and concentrate, Charlie.”

Then, he moved on.

 _Please not me, please not me, please not me_ …

 _Shit_.

Castiel halted before Dean, hands reaching out. 

 _Oh, Christ Almighty_.

Those hands smoothed over the undersides of Dean’s thighs. Up, up, they drifted. The sensation through the thin material of his sweatpants had his dick twitching in marked interest.  _Oh, no_. Now was  _not_  the time to get a boner.

“Too tense, Dean. Relax. You’ll lose your balance.” Blue eyes flicked up, clashing with Dean’s own. 

Dean nodded quickly. But Castiel didn’t move off. His hands drifted up again, fingers grazing dangerously close to his cock before stopping to rest on his hips. Dean’s t-shirt had rucked up when he’d lifted his arms per the pose. 

Castiel’s thumbs dabbled at the skin over his hips, his fingers pressed above the curve of his ass. The small touches on his bare skin combined with the closeness between them sent Dean’s blood pumping south despite all attempts to ignore everything but breathing.

Maybe Castiel wouldn’t notice-

Blue eyes flicked down. Pink lips tucked in and a hint of pink tinged the tips of Castiel’s ears. 

No dice.  _Aw, fuck_.

Castiel withdrew his hands and stepped away quickly. 

“Dean, I’ll need you to see me after class.”

Oh, shit. This was bad. Castiel was probably ten kinds of weirded out by the fact that Dean’s dick had found it necessary to wave hello in his presence. Dean would probably get kicked out for being lewd or something and he’d have to pay back Jess and Sam because of something so damn stupid…

The rest of the class passed quickly.

Dean watched the rest of the class file out and leave as he reluctantly packed away his mat. 

Castiel returned from bidding everyone else goodbye just as Dean shoved his mat into his bag. 

Dean stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder, shifting his feet from side to side. His insides were a mess of conflicting emotions; remnants of the previous arousal, niggling nervousness, and bitterness.

“Hey, Cas, listen. I’m sorry. I really can’t make any excuses for myself. I’m sorry it happened and if I made you uncomfortable. I, uh, I- Just, I’m sorry. So you can kick me out of the class or whatever you want. I get it. I’m a sucky student, anyway. Shit, sorry, rambling. Sorry about the, uh, you know. Just, yeah, sorry.” Dean winced as his mouth ran off before shutting it quick, hanging his head to wait for the verdict.

What he didn’t expect was for Castiel to reach out and touch him. 

Dean jumped at the contact, head snapping up and eyes flying wide. 

Castiel’s fingers skated up the arm that carried the bag over his shoulder. They pried his fingers loose from the strap and pulled the bag down until it dropped to the floor with a muffled noise.

Bold blue eyes met green ones as Castiel stepped closer, chest almost brushing Dean’s. 

“You did make me uncomfortable, Dean. I had to hide my own arousal from a class of fourteen other students after watching you, touching you.”

Dean blinked quickly. What? Had he heard that right? Castiel was…

“You-I-”  _Great job, Winchester. Very smooth_. “You’re not mad at me? You’re not kicking me out of your classes?”

“That wasn’t the reason I asked you to stay after, Dean. I had other plans in mind.”

What? Oh.  _Oh_. Did he mean…

“Are you coming on to me, Cas?”

The hand by Dean’s arm lifted, palming his shoulder as those gorgeous eyes grew heavy-lidded. Holy, hell, Dean really wanted to kiss him. Wanted to do a hell of a lot more, really, but he’d settle for kissing.

“Yes, I do suppose I am proposing a ‘come on’-”

Dean ducked his head and pressed his lips to Castiel’s, immediately humming at the feel. The hand on his shoulder shifted again, moving to cup the back of his head, fingers playing in the short hairs there. Lips parted after a few chaste touches, and Dean’s pleased hum turned into a moan at the first real taste of Castiel. Their tongues tangled as their bodies slotted together, hands roaming wildly. 

When Castiel broke away to shove Dean’s shirt over his head, he gasped in some much-needed oxygen. Of course, the sudden clearance for a bit of thought had Dean realizing that Cas was staring at him. 

Dean wasn’t exactly as fit as he had been in high school. He knew that. His belly hadn’t exactly shrank with all those Christmas cookies mom had made, either. He had the sudden need to hunch inward and cover himself. He settled for pushing his shoulders in and tugging at Castiel’s shirt.

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel breathed against his lips as their bare chests collided.

A  shocked laugh burst from Dean, an answering frown pulling at the corners of Cas’ mouth.

“Thanks for the ego-stroke, I guess.” Dean chuckled, tasting the skin of Castiel’s jaw. The bristles of the shadow there scratched his lips pleasantly.

“You’re welcome, but,” Castiel’s hands suddenly delved into the waistband of Dean’s pants, palming at Dean’s growing hard-on and making him gasp. “What I say is the truth and there are other parts of you I’d like to stroke more.”

 _Holy fuck_.

Dean let out a choked noise as Cas bent nearly in half to yank Dean’s sweats off.

“Jesus, just how flexible are you?”

Smoky blue eyes lifted as Castiel squeezed Dean’s cock through his boxers.

“I can fellate myself, actually.”

 _Holy fucking shit_. Was this guy even for real?

“Wanna see.” The words were out before Dean could really even think about saying them.

There was a slight pause in which Dean was sure he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. Then, Cas was tugging his own pants and underwear off and stretching. He laid down, curled his spine up and bent his legs and,  _holy shit_ …

Dean dropped to his knees, palming Castiel’s ass as the man licked at his own cock. That…That was…Dean’s mind couldn’t dredge up any words. Pre-come bubbled from the tip of his own dick as he watched, wetting the front of his boxers. Shit, that should’ve been _his_  mouth. Hey, that could be fixed.

Cas let Dean re-position him with a small noise of confusion.

“I thought you said that you wanted to see?”

Dean got himself between Castiel’s knees. He wrapped one hand around the base of Cas’ cock and pumped slowly. 

“Do. But I want this more.”

With that, Dean lowered his mouth over the dick in his hand, listening to Castiel’s surprised groan. 

He lapped around the head, teasing the underside with flicking licks before finally wrapping his lips around it. With a hum, Dean slid down until his nose pressed against the skin of Cas’ belly.

Castiel let out a sharp cry, nails biting into Dean’s scalp and hips jerking.

“Dean!”

Dean swallowed around him once before backing up to catch his breath, hand sliding through pre-come and spit as he stroked Castiel. He went down again, making sure to suck hard as his tongue skated over the underside of Castiel’s length. He lifted his gaze, burning to know just what Castiel looked like at that moment.

What Dean saw made him groan around the cock in his mouth.

Cas’ eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. The blue of his iris was almost entirely gone save for a thin ring. His lips were swollen, parted around heavy breaths. The tops of his cheeks, chest, and shoulders were flushed. His head alternated from tossing to kicking up, eyes unblinking as he watched Dean swallow around him.

Castiel was close. Dean knew it, could feel it in the way his thighs tensed and his groans and hums came more frequently and louder. 

Dean pulled off with a lewd  _pop_  noise, stroking Castiel quick and fast.

“C’mon, Cas. Come for me.” With that, Dean wrapped his lips back around the yoga instructor’s cock and sucked.

With a strangled, wrecked shout, Castiel came. His hips bucked and his body shook as Dean swallowed and sucked and lapped.

Then, in a blurring whirl of motion, Dean found himself on his back. Castiel’s mouth crashed down on his, tongue slipping inside to chase the taste of himself across Dean’s palate. One hand shoved Dean’s boxers down as the fingers of the free hand pinched a nipple.

Dean whimpered, back bowing. Castiel’s hands made his entire body sing with pleasure. And that was before those sinful lips wrapped around his dick.

“H-holy  _fuck_ -Shit! Cas!”

Dean’s eyes slammed shut as he came helplessly, body trembling apart in Cas’ hands. Embarrassment prickled across his skin at coming so soon.

He braced himself on his elbows, intending to apologize.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d-”

Castiel lifted his hand to his own mouth, tongue flicking out to catch a bit of come that had landed on his knuckle. Dean’s belly hollowed at the sight.

“We always have the next class.”


End file.
